Bitter Wine
by hpaddictedg
Summary: [Some Harry x Ginny, Draco x Ginny] "Dreams" plague him more than ever one day, and everything falls to pieces.


**Bitter Wine**

_Summary: [Some Harry x Ginny, Draco x Ginny] "Dreams" plague him more than ever one day, and everything falls to pieces. _

**_Disclaimer: Disclaimed._**

_A/N: Set after **Phantom Murmurings**, but you don't have to have read that one to understand this._

_This is different than anything I've ever written; it contains more dialogue and is just...strange.  I like it a lot, though; it's possibly my favorite story of mine ever.  _

_One line borrowed from a PotC story whose name I forget._

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**Bitter Wine**

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            "I'm here to see Draco," the red-head said to the house-elf who had (oh-so coldly) greeted her at the door.  Regarding her with a look of long-forgotten mirth, the elf wordlessly moved aside to allow the girl entrance to the house.  She stepped in, removing her shoes and leaving them in a pile beside the door, and followed the elf upstairs to where Draco apparently was.

            From the pictures on the walls, she learned that he had wed Pansy Parkinson (this was unsurprising to her; Pansy always _had _seemed to be a special pet of his); she remembered vague feelings from her teen years that she'd never be able to compete with Miss Parkinson (she had lips the color of deep-red wine and eyes that danced with malice when you looked at her; how could the petite, plain, brown-eyed red-head even _hope _to compete with that?).  Swallowing audibly, the girl opened the door that the elf motioned towards and slid inside.

            "Ginevra," Draco acknowledged, rising and walking over to the woman.

            "I'm surprised you still remember my name," Ginny replied maliciously; "we haven't talked for so long!"

            "_Three years_," Draco clarified with a harsh laugh.  "That _isn't _very long, you know."

            "It seemed longer," Ginny said softly.  "It seemed a _lot _longer, Draco; have you thought of me at _all_?"

            "Why _would_ I?" he asked.  "Things have _changed_ since then, darling."  Ginny knew that he was lying, and somehow that made what he had said even worse.

            A silence hung over the room like a fog for moments that passed like hours, rendering both people unable to speak; Ginny severely wished that Draco would say something.  Finally, she, herself, spoke:

            "You married Parkinson, eh?  Where _is _she, anyway?"

            "Dead," Draco snickered sadistically, "and _good riddance _to her." 

            "Why?" Ginny questioned, eyes narrowing in confusion.  "She was your _wife_, Draco!"

            "I _know_," he replied bitterly, "but she wasn't _you_."

            "What's _that _supposed to mean?" Ginny probed.

            "Anything you want it to, love," Draco smirked.  "Anything you want it to."

            Draco regarded the girl in front of him as a specter; something ethereal and conjured by his mind.  He hadn't seen her in so long (it _had _seemed longer than three years, he grudgingly accepted); there was no way that she could really be there now.  It was all a dream (and a dream that he had many times before, though said dreams were usually less bittersweet and involved many more questionable actions on both parts), and he wouldn't allow himself to be fooled.  She wasn't there; she couldn't say anything to hurt him.

            "I'm married to Harry now," Ginny blurted suddenly, ripping Draco from his thoughts.  "Three years ago, I mean; I wish you could've come to the wedding."

            "Are you happy?" Draco asked in a low voice, wondering if she really _had _missed his presence at the wedding.

            "Yes," Ginny replied, though what she _really _wanted to say was "no".  "We're doing well; Harry really loves me, you know."

            "Yes, I would think so; it's hard not to," Draco pointed out snidely.  "But do _you _love _him_?"  Ginny couldn't reply.

            "I thought not," Draco whispered sinisterly.  "I could tell; you seemed so emotionless speaking of Potter." 

            "I love _you_," Ginny whispered, so softly that Draco could barely hear her.

            "I bet you do," he sneered.  "Is that why you stood at the altar with Potter and not me?  Seems like pretty tough love to me, Gin."

            "Don't _call _me that," Ginny snapped; "no one's called me that in years, since-"

            "Since _us_," Draco finished, and he kissed her.  It was dark and passionate and painful; completely different than anything Ginny had ever experienced.  But it was over as soon as it had began, leaving Ginny alone in the middle of the room, tears shining in her eyes, as Draco turned his back on her and stood in front of the window.

            "Fine; I'm leaving, then," she snapped, glaring at Draco's back.  "You obviously don't want to talk to me; did you ever love me, really?"  Without waiting for an answer, Ginny stormed through the door.  The moment she was gone, Draco smiled bitterly and uttered one word:

            "Yes." 

            Ginny practically bounded down the stairs, upsetting a table on the way and not bothering to fix it.  When she reached the sitting-room, she spotted the same house-elf who had led her into the house.  He looked at her coldly and said nothing, and she quickly looked away and pushed past a couch in her hurry to get to the door.  Only when she was a block away from the house did she allow herself to cry.

**_{_End_}_**


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